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By  H-E  •  HARMAN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


u     -±-  „ 

miya^iuX 


') 


"At  The  Gate  of  Dreams 


BY 


H.  E.  HARMAN 


AUTHORS  PUBLISHING  CO. 

ATLANTA  AND  SAN   FRANCISCO 


Peering  $res«,  Honbon 
1905 


Copyright,  1905,  by  H.  E.  Harman 
All  rights  reserved 


PRESS  OF  FOOTE  &  DA  VIES  Co. 
ATLANTA,  GA. 


To    HER 

WHO  WAITS  WITH  ME 
AT    THE     GATE    OF     DREAMS 


^ 


How  rarest  blossoms  by  the  roadway  spring! 
How  do  the  barren  wilds  with  music  ring! 
How  every  night  new  stars  of  splendor  shou-s 
Within  the  vaulted  blue,  where  Love  is  king! 


At  the  Gate  of  Dreams 

Like  idle  children  at  the  Gate  of  Dreams, 
Piping  the  times  we  caught  along  the  road 
Of  half-forgotten  days, 

We  sit  with  folded  hands  and  watch  the  gleams 
Of  light  that  fall  on  yet  untrodden  ways. 

Each  day  we  build  new  castles  in  the  air 

On  ruins  left  from  those  of  yesterday 

That  fell  ere  half  complete ; 

Each  day  comes  promise  of  a  land  more  fair 

And  echoes  of  new  songs  more  weird,  more  sweet. 

For  Hope  that  springs  eternal  in  the  soul 

Fills  all  the  rugged  way  of  human  toil 

With  silver-tinted  gleams ; 

Gives  every  day  new  promise  to  unfold 

And  makes  us  children  at  the  Gate  of  Dreams. 


A  thousand  years  and  ne'er  night  has  paled 
Before  the  day,  but  yonder  star  unveiled 
A  patient  face;  a  lesson  here  for  thee. 
If  aught  in  constancy  thy  life  has  failed. 


On  the  Road  to  Sleepy-Town 

On  the  road  to  Sleepy-Town 
As  the  wondrous  sun  goes  down, 
Little  hands  and  little  feet 
Wearied  out  with  play  complete, 
Now  would  stop  at  every  sound 
On  the  road  to  Sleepy-Town. 

Busy  has  the  whole  day  been 
From  the  dawn  until  its  end ; 
And  the  gentle  twilight  glow, 
Where  the  weary  feet  now  go 
Falls  like  benediction  down 
On  the  road  to  Sleepy-Town. 

Just  ahead  the  Gate  of  Dreams 
Through  the  stillness  casts  its  gleams 
Just  ahead  the  hand  of  sleep 
Reaches  out  to  touch  the  cheek 
Of  each  little  head  of  brown 
Longing  so  for  Sleepy-Town. 

Let  me  take  you  to  my  breast 
Just  this  moment  ere  you  rest ; 
Let  me  hold  the  hands  so  sweet 
As  the  daylight  goes  to  sleep, 
Kiss  the  droopy  eyelids  down 
On  the  road  to  Sleepy-Town. 


How  would  the  stony  pathways  of  the  street., 
Threading  the  marts  of  trade,  amid  the  heat 
Of  busy  life,  become  like  daisied  fields 
If  wand  of  love  should  guide  reluctant  feet. 


Unrest 

As  sings  the  brook  a-down  the  meadow  ways, 

Hopeful  and  glad  to  join  the  waiting  sea, 
So  all  the  while  we  hasten  through  our  days, 

Sunny  and  bright,  yet  never  stop  to  see 
The  flowers  that  bloom  about  our  hurrying  feet, 

But,  like  the  brook,  oblivious  of  its  fate, 
We  hasten  on,  the  coming  years  to  greet 

Unmindful  of  the  storms  that  there  await. 


How  oft  we  strain  our  human  eyes  to  trace 
Some  picture  of  the  future's  hidden  face; 
And  yet  of  all  who've  gone  the  silent  way 
Not  one  has  dared  a  single  step  retrace. 


The  Silent  Way 

Always  before  us  lies  the  silent  way 

Along  whose  mystic  sands  some  ill-wrought  day 

Your  feet  and  mine,  Sweetheart,  alone  must  stray. 

The  shadowy  valley  has  its  own  sad  gloom ; 
There  hangs  tho  unknown  mystery  of  the  tomb ; 
Along  its  way  no  sweet-faced  daisies  bloom. 

But  Lotus  trees  grow  by  the  silent  way, 

Teaching  forgetfulness  of  pain  to  those  who  stray ; 

Lethe  of  Life  and  Life's  unfinished  play. 

If  you  could  walk  with  me,  ah !  your  sweet  eyes 

Would  be  as  sunshine  in  its  sunless  skies, 

And  o'er  its  gloom  new  hope,  new  strength  would  rise. 

But  we  must  tread  alone  this  silent  way, 

And  when  you  go  God  grant  new  light  may  play 

Upon  its  horizon  so  cold,  so  gray. 


The  grave  may  bring  defeat  and  hopeless  shame, 
E'en  innocence  may  lose  a  cherished  name; 
But  while  we  walk  this  side  the  silent  tomb 
Nothing  can  daunt  the  soul  where  love's  aflame. 


A  Memory 

An  olden  tune,  the  memory  of  a  song, 
A  vanished  face,  the  touch  of  bow  along 
Responsive  strings  that  wakened  all  my  soul; 
A  memory  of  your  face  now  gone !  now  gone ! 


Why  no  slight  message  from,  the  grave  is  found? 
Why  from  its  hidden  silence  ne'er  a  sound? 
Know  thou  the  hand  of  Lethe  guards  the  way, 
That  those  who've  crossed  before  are  Lotus-bound. 


Farewell 

Farewell!  Farewell!  O  Sea,  O  fickle  Sea, 
Keep  in  thy  faithless  arms,  O  keep 

Him  who  is  all  and  more  than  all  to  me 
Safe  from,  thy  treacherous  deep  ! 

His  passioned  kiss  yet  hot  upon  my  cheek, 
Now  thy  salt  kisses  take  the  place  of  mine ; 

O  Sea,  I  envy  thee  thy  burden ;  seek 

The  smoothest  path  for  him  across  the  brine. 

To-night  the  lazy  breezes  from  the  hills 

Will  cool  my  brow,  dreaming  of  him  afar, 

While  thy  soft  winds,  O  Sea,  the  canvas  fills 
That  carries  him  beneath  yon  patient  star. 

Farewell !  Farewell !  Ye  Winds  from  out  the  deep, 
Blow  gently  as  the  ev'en  shadows  fall ; 

And  through  the  silence  of  the  darkness  keep 
The  good  ship  there  that  carries  mine,  my  all. 


//  in  the  hush  of  evening  twilight's  glows 
The  history  of  the  day  no  kindness  shows, 
Then  count  that  day  as  more  than  lost  to  thee 
And  pray  forgiveness  ere  the  records  close. 


Life's  Twilight 

The  evening  star  and  glow  of  sunset  in  the  West, 
A  mist  upon  the  hill,  the  hour  of  rest. 

A  sound  of  vesper  bell  across  the  harbor  deep, 
Parting  of  dark  and  day  where  valleys  sleep. 

And  when  I  say  good-bye  to  face  an  unseen  day, 
May  peace  as  sweet  as  this  twilight  my  way. 


Look  you  within  the  daisy's  heart  and  see 
Some  foi*ecast  what  the  future  life  will  be; 
The  faith  that  glows  in  every  blossom's  face 
Augurs  Elysium  yet  for  you  and  me. 


A  Prayer 

0  Thou,  who  paints  the  crimson  on  the  rose 
And  gives  the  meadow  daisy  heart  of  gold, 
Unto   my   soul   so   sinned   and   incomplete 
Thy  will,  Thy  wish  unfold. 

And  when  the  last  sad  day  shall  come 
And  in  my  soul 

1  know  that  ere  the  twilight  shadows  pall 

The  bells  for  me  will  toll, 

Then  give  me  faith  to  clasp  Thy  hand  and  hold 
Till  boatman  safely  passes  o'er  the  stream, 
And  on  the  part  I've  played  the  curtain  fall. 


So  many  a  life  has  failed  not  asking  why, 
So  many  a  soul  despaired  that  did  not  try, 
But  saddest  fate  that  bars  the  human  way: 
"To  have  the  wish,  but  not  the  wings  to  fly 


UNTO   MY   SOUL,   SO   SIXNED  AXD   INCOMPLETE. 


— ^ 


Some  day,  somehow,  I  If  now  not  where  or  when, 
Hearts  kept  asunder  who  have  lovers  been 
I  know  shall  be  united,  hand  and  soul 
And  thus  shall  dwell  until  the  cycles  end. 


If  You  But  Knew 

I  wonder  if  you  ever  come  this  way 

From  out  the  Bright  Beyond,  whence  you  have  gone ; 

If  sometimes  by  my  path  you  do  not  stray 

Which  since  you  went  I  traverse  all  alone. 

It  seems  my  love  and  loneliness  would  bring 
Your  gentle  tread  along  my  road  some  day 
When  I'm  a-weary,  with  no  heart  to  sing, 
And  sigh  for  comradeship  along  the  way. 

If  you  but  knew  how  I  have  missed  your  smile, 
Your  tender  voice  and  touch  of  vanished  hand, 
Your  pity  would  be  mine  the  little  while 
I  walk  without  you  in  the  Shadow  Land. 


When  we  have  anchored  on  the  other  shore 
And  Charon  turns  his  boat  earthward  once  more, 
I  wonder  will  not  olden  loves  awake 
Regret  that  Life's  half-finished  play  is  o'er! 


O  Restless  Sea 


O  restless  Ocean,  like  a  guilty  soul 
Forever  moving,  seeking,  never  still, 

What  is  thy  mystery  and  what  thy  goal ; 
What  is  the  wish  thy  vastness  cannot  fill  ? 

The  widowed  ones  who  lonely  vigil  keep  ? 

The  orphaned  children  at  the  widow's  side  ? 
And  victims  brave  who  'neath  thy  treachery  sleep 

Are  these  thy  conscience  taunts,  O  Ocean  wide  ? 


If  in  the  after  life  nothing  but  ease 
Shall  be  our  lot  beneath  the  spreading  trees, 
How  think  you  Soul,  with  lofty  aim  afire, 
Shall  there  in  idleness  its  wish  appease  ! 


The  Remnant  in  Gray 

O  sing  me  a  song  of  the  shadowy  land 

Where  an  army  thinned  by  the  frosts  of  years 
Marches   with  trembling  foot   and   hand 
The  silent  road  of  the  volunteers: 
The  shadowy  way 
With  no  light  to  stay 
The  soul  that  has  never  had  room  for  fears. 

But  a  little  while  in  the  shadowy  way 

And  the  last  will  make  his  final  stand, 
And  the  soul  which  courage  could  always  stay 
Will  feel  the  touch  of  Charon's  hand. 
Then  the  shadowy  way 
With  no  light  of  day 
Will  see  the  end  of  this  faithful  band. 

But  a  little  time  in  the  shadowy  way : 

Such  a  little  while  and  the  grave  is  there ; 
So  while  the  few  who  with  us  stay 
And  walk  with  us,  let  every  care 
In  the  shadowy  way 
With  no  light  to  stay 
Be  theirs  to  the  end  of  the  last  sweet  day. 


How  often  Death  comes  near  us  on  the  way, 
But  passes  on  and  gives  u-s  leave  to  stay 
With  sweet  home  idols,  while  another  life, 
Hopeful,  he  takes  a-down  the  silent  way. 


I  never  yet  have  found  a  heart  so  dead 
But  sometimes  touched  a  softened  tear  to  shed, 
And  never  yet  the  Winter  fields  so  sere 
But  some  brave  plant  dare  lift  its  faithful  head. 


Since  in  the  lowly  valleys  everywhere 
God  scatters  blossoms  that  are  passing  fair, 
Think  what  the  vales  of  Paradise  will  show-' 
How  rare  must  be  the  plants  that  blossom  there! 


God  Grant  the  Years  Go  Slow 

God  grant  the  years  go  slow ; 

God  grant  the  days  be  long; 
And  lazily  fall  the  twilight  glow, 

Linger  the  Even-song. 

Yon  moon  that  fills  the  West 

With  its  silver-tinted  gleams 
Will   quickly   sink   to    rest 

And  leave  the  world  to   dreams: 
So  to-morrow's  sun  will  rise 

Out  of  the  gaudy  dawn 
And  fill  the  Summer  skies 

Then  sink — and  a  day  is  gone. 

I  dread  the  day,  Sweetheart, 

When  I  shall  kiss  your  hand 
Earewell  and  alone  we  part 

And  go  to   another   land; 
For  beyond  the  little  way 

We  see  with  human  eye, 
Of  it  all  we  can  only  say : 

We  live,  we  love,  we  die. 

So  I  pray  that  the  years  go  slow; 

God  grant  the  days  be  long ; 
And  lazily  fall  the  twilight  glow, 

Sing  slowly  the  Even-song. 


It  argues  well  that  Death  must  be  complete, 
That  every  subject  bowing  at  his  feet 
Allegiance  gives;  or  else  that  country  fair 
Holds  willing  captives  with  its  music  sweet. 


My  Lotus-Land 

A  smell  of  yonder  sea  comes  to  our  window  high, 
And  a  sound  of  melody  out  of  the  darkening  sky, 
For  now  the  parting  day  says  good-bye  to  the  night ; 
There  are  little  prayers  to  pray  and  Love's  own  fires 
to  light. 

Now  let  me  hold  your  hand  and  look  you  in  my  eyes 
And  see  that  my  Lotus-land,  under  Love's  starlit  skies, 
Is  where  I  walk  with  you  in  magic  hour  like  this, 
Where  the  silvery  beads  of  dew  be-star  these  vales  of  bliss. 


How  very  blue  must  be  the  Summer  skies 
That  bend  above  the  vales  of  Paradise! 
How  every  landscape,  every  valley  deep 
Will  fill  the  radiant  soul  with  sweet  surprise! 


On  Love's  Highway 


One  day  Love  met  me  on  the  June  highways, 
When  all  the  fields  were  bending  in  the  breeze 

That  brought  new  promises  of  Summer  days, 

And  tulips  bloomed  beneath  the  spreading  trees. 

"Walk  thou  with  me,"  he  said,  "along  the  way : 

See  all  the  world  is  glad  and  so  am  I, 
Be  my  companion  and  each  blessed  day 
Will  pass  as  holy  incense  to  the  sky." 

Almost  a  score  of  years  have  passed  since  then 
And  Love  and  I  have  never  walked  apart, 

And  sweet  June  roses  fill  the  way  as  when 

We  first  clasped  hands  so  long  ago,  Sweetheart. 


E'en  yet  while  snow  is  still  upon  the  hills 
And  Winter's  icy  touch  the  valley  fills, 
G-od  sends  a  pledge  of  what  the  Spring  will  be 
In  golden  glory  of  the  daffodils. 


In  the  South 

Here  every  breeze  a  richer  perfume  brings 

From  out  the  scented  woods,  where  all  the  while, 

Tireless  from  joy,  the  waiting  mock-bird  sings : 
Here  every  wildwood  blossom  is  a  smile. 

Somehow  the  daisied  fields  are  whiter  still; 

It  seems  the  rose  is  redder,  and  the  sky 
A  brighter  hue ;  here  joy  and  gladness  fill 

Each  hasty  hour  and  yet  I  know  not  why. 

There  is  her  love  I  hold  within  my  heart, 
Loyal  and  true,  and  every  joy  it  brings : 

We  walk  the  ways  that  never  go  apart — 
This  may  be  why  the  bird  so  sweetly  sings. 


No  matter  how  obscure  the  lonely  place 
Where  meadow  flower  lifts  its  tender  face, 
It  sheds  a  perfume  just  as  pure  and  sweet 
As  if  it  grew  where  gaudy  footsteps  pace. 


Goldenrod 

The  Autumn  sunbeams  come  in  rifts  of  gold 
Across  the  fields  and  by  the  lapping  sea; 

And  as  I  pass,  the  tufted  Goldenrod 
Bows  royally  in  silence  unto  me. 

Though   heralder   of  Winter's   coming   stay, 
And  soft  reminder  of  the  Summer  dead, 

No  arrogance  of  manner  marks  thy  day, 
Oh,  Goldenrod.     And  on  thy  crimson  head 

The  crown  of  fulness,  of  completeness  rests, 
The  sunshine  of  an  hundred  Summer  days; 

And  garnered  love  that  we  have  won  and  lost 

Thy  silence  keeps.     And  all  the  burnished  ways 

Of  woodland  vale  and  sedgy-covered  fields 
Are  gladdened  by  thy  presence,  for  the  sod 

Sends  up  its  dearest  -offering  of  the  year 
In  thy  rich  colors,  pensive  Goldenrod. 


When  lights  are  lowered  in  the  hall,  if  we 
Into  the  hidden  future's  face  could  see 
And  know  that  but  a  little  span  remains, 
How  tender  would  the  good-night  kisses  be! 


Dogwood  and  Jasmine 

The  dogwood  fringes  woods  with  white, 
The  leaves  new  fragrance  bring, 

While  jasmine  hangs  its  yellow  lamps 
To  light  the  way  of  Spring. 

Yet  never  blooms  the  flowers  anew 
But  a  face  comes  back  serene; 

The  dogwood  and  the  jasmine 
Both  keep  her  memory  green. 


^4/i  /  those  who've  anchored,  lo,  these  many  days 
In  that  fair  land  beyond  this  misty  haze, 
I  wonder  if  they  watch  our  restless  feet, 
As  here  we  climb  Life's  sin-encumbered 


In  Your  Room 

How  sacred  do  the  very  curtains  seem 

That  guard  the  wistful  pathway  of  the  light 

That  fain  would  enter  through  your  casement  there 
And  linger  with  you.     And  when  gentle  night 

Has  strewn  the  meadows  of  the  Summer  sky 
With  patient  stars,  then  every  little  bloom 

That  shines  serene  watches  in  constancy. 
If  but  to  lose  one  ray  within  your  room. 

There  is  the  couch  where  restful  slumber  comes 
To  your  sweet  eyes,  and  love-dreams  chase 

All  cares  and  worries  from  your  merry  heart, 

And  bring  the  sleeper's  smile  to  your  dear  face. 

So  when  the  morn  awakes  and  peaceful  night 
Has  softly  passed,  then  from  the  eastern  skies 

A  thousand  sunbeams  race  with  message  sweet — 
A  new  day's  welcome  to  your  waking  eyes. 


Love  knows  no  caste;  the  poorest  cottage  bare 
Of  all  that  makes  life  easiest  and  fair 
He  enters  with  such  royal  pomp  and  pride 
As  if  a  palace  splendor  waited  there. 


We  Two 

If  we  but  journey  on  the  same  highway, 
Whether  it  be  by  land  or  placid  sea, 

But  one  sweet  haven  waits  the  closing  day 
Since  your  dear  footsteps  there  abide  with  me. 

Your  tender  look  my  evening  twilight  thrill, 
Your  voice  the  music  of  the  Summer  breeze ; 

One  clasp  of  hand  and  lo !  the  meadows  fill 

With  sweet  contentment  'neath  the  spreading  trees. 


No  voice  comes  back:  the  silence  of  the  tomb 
Is  just  as  faithful  as  its  awful  gloom; 
But  this  I  Tcnow,  if  there  I  find  you  not, 
No  flowers  for  me  in  Paradise  will  bloom. 


Then  You  Will  Know 

I  feel  you  never,  never  yet  have  understood 

How  tenderly  I've  loved  you  all  these  years, 
And  never  will  my  heart's  full  meaning  know 

Until  beside  my  bed  the  mourner's  tears 
Shall  fill  your  eyes,  and  kneeling  at  my  side 

You  kiss  the  lips  so  white  but  damp  and  cold 
In  death's  possession,  and  the  hands  that  toiled 

So  tenderly  and  long  in  yours  you  hold. 

Then,  Sweetheart  dear,  the  olden  days  will  come 

Like  phantom  images  that  haunt  the  soul 
In  other  lands:     then  every  olden  kiss 

And  every  smile  new  charm  for  you  will  hold. 
And  when  the  silent  lips  will  answer  not 

Your  pleading  call,  know  well  that  from  the  land 
Whence  I  have  gone,  I'll  love  you  even  more ; 

Then  once  for  all,  I  know,  you'll  understand. 


SONGS  FROM 


"IN  PEACEFUL  VALLEY 


and   Other   Poems 


BY 


H.    E.    BARMAN 


REPRINTED    FROM     EDITION    OF    1901 


From  foot-worn  street,  where  like  a  dungeon  aislo 
We  tread  alone  the  tireless  mill  of  trade, 

I  lift  the  voice  of  gratitude  and  smile 
And  sing  to  you  this  lover's  serenade. 


The  Carolina  Daisies 

A  thousand  daisies  lift  their  snowy  heads 
Upon  each  sun-kissed  Carolina  hill, 
And  star  the  meadows  with  their  white  and  gold 
To  where  the  flowing  tide  of  Summer  rill 
Eases  its  pace  in  lowlands  green  and  wide, 
Until  it  finds  the  river's  swifter  tide. 

In  other  lands  I've  seen  the  daisies  bloom, 

And  marked  the  glory  of  a  day  in  June ; 

Have  watched  the  Summer  splendor  far  and  wide, 

When  all  the  world  with  nature  was  in  tune, 

But  other  daisies  never  yet  could  thrill 

My  soul  like  those  on  Carolina  hill. 

Somehow,  in  exile,  as  I  see  them  yet, 

Those  hills  seem  greener  under  Summer  skies, 

For  there,  just  she  and  I,  in  daisy  field 

I  saw  the  love-light  in  her  tender  eyes ; 

Even  yet  as  constant  as  the  stars  above 

I  hold  her  tenderness,  her  trust,  her  love. 

For  swift  the  years  that  blight  our  castles  fair 
Have  left  me  this,  and  memory  reaches  far 
To  love's  awakening  in  the  daisy  fields, 
Mid  hush  of  twilight,  'neath  the  evening  star ; 
So  thus  I  bless  you  for  the  love  that  thrills 
My  soul,  sweet  daisies  of  the  Carolina  hills. 


Our  House  of  Dreams 

Almost  a  score  of  years 

'Mid  smiles  and  tears, 

We've  builded,  you  and  I,  our  house  of  dreams, 

And  still  through  all  the  days, 

Along  the  stony  ways 

Love's  halo  gleams. 

Sometime  the  clay  was  bright ; 

Sometime  a  Winter  light 

Fell  where  we  toiled  slow  with  willing  hands ; 

But  Love  was  always  there, 

A  gleam  of  light  to  spare 

From  Promise  Lands. 

We've  seen  the  structure  tall 

In  hopeless  ruin  fall 

And  hope's  fair  star  shine  out  with  feeble  gleams ; 

But  Love,  Swreetheart,  is  true 

As  we  begin  anew 

Our  house  of  dreams. 


In  Some  Sad  Hour 

In  some  sad  hour  I'll  hold  your  trembling  hand 
And  plead  the  passing  moments  for  delay, 

When  one  of  us  must  pass  beyond  the  real 
And  one  must  stay. 

It  matters  not  to  us  which  it  shall  be ; 

Who  first  shall  tread  alone  the  hidden  ways ; 
But  God  be  gentle  in  that  lonely  hour 

To  one  who  stays. 


A  Valentine 

If  white-winged  Peri  from  the  golden  gate 
Should  ask  what  gift  to  me  would  be  most  dear 

From  her  bright  home  above, 

Quick  would  the  thought  and  quick  the  pleading  be 
That  from  her  bounteous  gifts  of  land  and  sea 

I  still  might  keep  your  love. 

So  on  this  day  when  Cupid  walks  abroad 
And  shoots  his  arrows  from  a  golden  bow 

To  aid  St.  Valentine, 
I  only  ask  that  through  the  years  to  be 
Whatever  else  the  fates  may  hold  for  me 

Your  love  may  still  be  mine. 


When  Daylight  Breaks 

When  daylight  breaks 

Across  the  sky 

And  streaks  of  gold 

The  day  unfold, 

When  darkness  fades  in  mellow  light 
And  day-time  angels  chase  the  night, 
Then  all  my  peaceful  dreaming  wakes 
To  love  thee  more  when  daylight  breaks. 

When  daylight  breaks 

In  dusky  hue 

To  kindle  diamonds 

In  the  dew, 

And  shadows  in  the  valley  deep 
Play  hide  and  seek,  and  star  beams  peep 
With  radiance  waned,  an  offering  wakes 
To  thee,  my  love,  when  daylight  breaks. 

When  daylight  wakes 

Across  the  sky, 

When  starlight  fades 

And  moonbeams  die, 
WThen  dusky  lashes  catch  the  light 
From  hovering  dreams,  and  all  the  night 
Has  fled,  I  wake  to  bless  the  fates 
For  thy  sweet  love  when  daylight  breaks. 


A  Day  on  the  Farm  Once  More 

Oh !  give  me  a  day  on  the  dear  old  farm  once  more, 
One  such  as  when  a  barefoot  boy  I  strayed 
Among  the  weeds  and  tangled  clover-tops 
And  listened  to  the  many  tunes  that  played 
From  every  tree-top  where  the  feathered  throats 
Sang  ceaselessly  because  the  days  were  sweet. 

And  let  it  be  a  day  in  harvest-time 

When  every  wind  that  swept  across  the  field 

Was  perfume-laden,  and  when  twilight  came 

Then  all  the  glories  of  the  Summer  night  revealed ; 

When  every  prayer  was  like  a  lover's  song ; 

Because  to  live  was  love  and  love  is  prayer. 


if 

H  "•'-.. 

The  Carolina  Hills 

'Tis  Summer,  once  more  Summer 

On  the  Carolina  hills, 
And  there  seems  to  be  a  rythm 

In  the  whisper  of  the  rills 
As  they  come  from  out  the  highlands 

Where  the  sweetest  mosses  grow. 
And  go  singing  through  the  meadows, 

With  the  willows  bending  low. 

I've  a  sweetheart  in  the  valley, 

In  the  cottage  over  there  ; 
Long  I've  envied  every  cowslip 

That  was  growing  very  near 
Where  she  walked  on  Summer  mornings 

By  the  hedges  cool  and  sweet, 
And  I  envied  yonder  roadway 

Long  accustomed  to  her  feet. 

To-day  beside  the  willows, 

In  the  meadow  cool  and  deep, 
I  met  her  on  the  roadway 

Where  the  daisies  vigil  keep, 
And  a  promise  she  has  given 

Which  my  soul  with  gladness  fills, 
And  I  love  you  more  than  ever, 

You  Carolina  hills. 

Oh !  the  cowslips  in  the  meadow 

That  I  envied  long  ago, 
And  roadway  by  the  cottage 

Where  the  golden  daisies  grow, 
I  envy  you  no  longer, 

For  I've  won  a  love  that  fills 
My  soul,  in  that  fair  maiden 

Of  the  Carolina  hills. 


Love  is  the  Same 

Love  rules   the  world  complete, 
Be  it  for  good  or  wrong, 
His  voice  is  but  the  same 
In  sigh  or  song. 

The  minstrel  serenade 
From  darkened  village  street, 
Wafted  to  listening  maid, 
Is  love  complete. 

If  it  be  kingly  breast 
Or  peasant  heart  aflame, 
Heaven  touches  each  alike ; 
Love  is  the  same. 


I 

- .  » 

© 


Since  Dinah  Went  Away 

To-night  in  negro  exile,  in  dis  far-off  Northern  clime, 

I  dreamed  I  saw  de  cabin  home  of  old, 
Down  beside  de  Southern  river,  and  de  eve  was  Summer-time 

And  de  story  of  my  sorrow  there  is  told. 

De  whippo'-will  was  singin'  and  de  breeze  was  blowing  slow, 

De  air  was  full  of  perfume  of  de  co'n, 
But  de  shadows  fall  so  heavy  and  de  stars  kind  hanging  low, 

'Cause  Dinah,  just  my  Dinah,  she  is  gone. 

No  softness  in  de  twilight  since  my  Dinah  went  away, 

No  twinkle  in  de  stars  dat  shine  for  love, 
And  de  dog,  he  look  much  sadder  and  kinder  pine  away 

Since  Dinah  died  and  went  up  there  above. 

De  cabin  it  is  just  de  same  to  others  I  suppose, 

The  fields  as  green  and  other  things  as  gay, 
But  a  gloom  is  in  de  twilight  and  a  darkness  in  my  soul 

Since  Dinah,  just  my  Dinah,  went  away. 


DE   CABIN   IT   IS   JUST  DE   SAME. 


When  Memory  Wakes 

At  dawn  I  woke,  and  in  the  misty  haze 

That  conies  between  the  waking  and  the  dream 

I  saw  her  face,  as  in  the  olden  days, 

And  o'er  her  brow  the  mellow  light  that  plays 

Where  Love's  enthroned.     And  loi!  the  tender  gleam 

Of  morning  star  had  lost  its  wonted  light, 

For  Fate  had  touched  a  long-healed  wound  at  night 

And  waked  me,  sighing  for  forgotten  days. 


Perhaps 

Perhaps  in  some  far-distant  Spring-time, 
When  fields  are  green  and  woods  are  gay, 

When  all  the  air  is  rich  in  perfume, 
I  may  cross  your  wray. 

Perhaps  in  some  sweet  slumberous  June-time 
Bright  and  fair  with  sunny  weather, 

When  the  whippoor-will  is  wooing, 
Our  hearts  may  throb  together. 

Perhaps  some  russet,  crimson  Autumn, 

Rich  with  goldenrods  and  gay, 
Sere  and  brown  in  golden  beauty, 

May  see  our  wedding  day. 


ft? 


THE    MISTY    HAZE 

THAT   COMES   BETWEEN   THE   WAKIXG  AXD   THE   BREAM." 


Everywhere 

In  twilight  hour  the  softer  blue 
That  glows  from  Summer  skies 

Is  but  the  borrowed  color 
Of  your  sweet  eyes. 

The  wild  rose  blush  in  solitude 
Beneath  the  stately  pine 

Is  but  a  type  of  that  which  glows 
On  lips  of  thine. 

And  zephyr  low  amid  the  fields 
Where  flower  and  leaf  rejoice, 

Brings  back  the  tender  echo 
Of  thy  sweet  voice. 

For  Nature  has  no  melody 
On  land  or  Summer  sea 

That  is  not  set  in  numbers 
That  tell  of  thee. 


TWILIGHT  HOUR  THE  SOFTER  BLUE 


Just  Blooming  For  You 

To-day  in  the  low  green  meadows 
'Neath  the  skies  of  Summer  hue 

I  found  a  white-rimmed  daisy 
Just  blooming  alone  for  you. 

Patient  through  days  a-dreary, 
Smiling  when  skies  are  blue, 

Happy  in  life's  full  treasure 
Of  blooming  alone  for  you. 

No  worship  of  priest  or  prelate 
Could  equal  devotion  so  true 

As  the  love  of  the  sweet  meadow  daisy 
Just  blooming  alone  for  you. 

There  may  be  creeds  more  perfect 
And  devotion  more  lasting  and  true, 

But  the  simple  love  of  the  daisy 
Just  blooming  alone  for  you 

Taught  me  the  sweetness  of  living 
Out  there  under  skies  so  blue ; 

Just  shedding  the  fragrance  of  loving 
And  blooming  alone  for  you. 

And  to-day  in  the  perfumed  meadow 
With  its  flowers  of  every  hue 

I  learned  a  lesson  of  worship 

From  the  daisy  just  blooming  for  you. 


JUST  BLOOMING  ALONE  FOB  YOU. 


My  Silent  Guest 

We  sit  beside  the  hearthstone 

Where  the  fire-light's  ruddy  glow 
Brings  back  the  faded  pictures 

From  the  realm  of  long  ago, 
And  I  smoke  my  pipe  in  silence 

As  a  star  shows  in  the  west, 
But  never  a  word  is  uttered 

From  the  lips  of  my  silent  guest. 

And  I  hear  as  she  sits  beside  me 

The  rustle  of  silken  dress 
And  upon  my  burdened  shoulder 

A  vanished  hand  is  pressed ; 
The  perfume  of  one  sweet  Summer 

Comes  back  with  a  memory  blest, 
But  never  a  word  is  spoken 

From  the  lips  of  my  silent  guest. 

I  stretch  my  hand  in  the  stillness 

If  to  touch  the  head  of  brown, 
Praying  a  look  of  welcome 

From  the  dreamy  eyes  cast  down, 
And  a  word  from  the  lips  so  tender 

That  would  come  as  a  message  blest; 
But  never  a  word  is  uttered 

From  the  lips  of  my  silent  guest. 

And  so  we  sit  in  the  stillness 

Alone  through  the  blessed  night, 
Until  each  faded  ember 

Is  lost  in  the  coming  light 
Of  the  gaudy-mantled  morning, 

And  I  wake  in  the  hush  of  dawn 
To  stretch  my  hands  in  pleading, 

But  my  silent  guest  is  gone. 


The  Recompense  of  Fate 


I  saw  a  gardner  plant  a  lilac  tree 

Beside  his  modest  cottage,  and  for  years 

Returning,  saw  it  grow,  but  ne'er  a  bloom 
Appeared  to  pay  him  for  his  cares. 

But  in  the  after  days  when  he  was  gone 
And  daisies  grew  where  he  was  laid  away, 

The  lilac  bloomed,  and  through  the  long  spring  morn, 
Blessed  cot  and  garden  with  its  purple  spray. 


By  the  Old  Mill 

A  picture  in  the  wilderness  of  waste, 

The  old  mill  stands,  untenanted  and  still ; 

No  life  about  the  doors  and  fallen  wheel, 
No  cottage  on  the  hill. 

And  yet  to-day,  as  by  the  stream  I  stood, 

Which  through  the  busy  years  has  constant  been, 

The  meadow  daisies  bloomed  as  fresh  and  sweet 
As  then,  Sweetheart,  as  then. 

"As  then!"     You  must  recall  the  day 

When  we  the  daisies  plucked  beside  the  stream ; 

The  day  we  pledged  our  heart  and  hand,  which  still 
Makes  life's  sweet  dream. 

For,  Sweetheart  dear,  the  moss  may  cover  green 
The  fallen  wheel  and  Winters  follow  May, 

But  love  that  woke  for  us  beside  the  mill 
Knows  no  decay. 


UNTENANTED  AND  STILL. 


The  Peaceful  Valley 

Here  falls  a  gentle  stillness  o'er  the  fields, 
And  in  the  sunshine  there's  a  touch  of  gold ; 

Each  zephyr  brings  the  echo  of  a  song, 

And  Summer  twilights  Nature's  heart  unfold. 

Here,  peaceful  home,  where  cluster  orchard  trees, 
Stands  far  removed  from  where  the  busy  feet 

Of  passing  life  go  up  and  down  the  way : 
Here  not  the  noisy,  but  the  peaceful  meet. 

There  are  no  struggles  here,  but  gentler  ways 
Of  life  stretch  far  along  the  winding  streams ; 

Here  are  the  echoes  of  the  olden  songs, 
Here  come  again  the  faces  of  our  dreams. 

Ah !  but  the  touch  of  her  soft,  gentle  hand 
And  lo !  a  stillness  falls  o'er  land  and  sea : 

'Tis  Peaceful  Valley  where  her  pathway  leads, 
'Tis  always  Summer  when  she  walks  with  me. 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


— 

_P£            TTflrrnari- 

3515        "At  the  gate 
H227a      dreams." 

of 

A  000  925  207  3 


PS 
3515 

H227a 


